Maggie and Arisa
by PoisonFork
Summary: PG-13 for language. Tells about a friendship between a Voldemort supporter and a non-supporter between two Hogwarts students...


Size: 15.1KB

A/N: My first fic! It's kind of corny and all that crap, but hey, who cares? Please review... it would, at most, take a minute or two of your time! Your opinion would be greatly valued. If you aren't an author yourself, you wouldn't understand the happiness if we get reviews, really. Isn't it a read and go for most of you? Or maybe you have nothing to say. Just review a little. The parts you liked, the parts you didn't. Simple? I don't care if it's flaming or not even logical, but it's nice and simple courtesy. Or maybe you can't call it courtesy. Before you write your review, please put a small '(chapter one)' in front if you are reviewing this chapter, so I know which chapter you're referring to. :) Now really, I should shut up in the Author's Note now... It's really too long. I _should_ begin writing now, don't you think? Due to school restraints, I would not be posting chapters very often. Maybe one in a few weeks... that kind of thing. Enjoy! Also, tell me in your review if you like my paragraphing, or should I change it to be more spaced out? But I find it like that to be less work on scrolling.

D/C: D/C... also known as disconnected in AIM chats with my buddies (LOL), but here, I deem it as "Disclaimer". Fair 'nuff? Anywa, none of this crap that I write belongs to me. Of course, except those that you don't recognise. Heh heh. work

**Maggie and Arisa  
Chapter One - Maggie**

I was jumping around with joy when the letter came, for me to go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I mean, I could have been shipped off to Reyn's or Porta's for goodness sakes... and Hogwarts is the most prestigious of them all. My parents were beaming at me the day we got the letter, and so was I. Mum cooked special dinner for us that day.  
Memories like that are quite to me, you know. I hate change... I like to look at old photographs, read the books I had when I was a baby, _try_ to fly on my toy broom... heh. Those were the days. You may call me old and whatever, but I really don't care... I just like old stuff. They interest me, you know?  
Then of course, I, like any normal person looking forward to a certain date would, I ticked off the number of days left to September 1st, on my calendar.  
I've always liked to take trips to Diagon Alley to buy this and that with my mum. I still remember one day, Mum and I went to Diagon Alley, and my mum accidentally walked into this big (and I _mean_ big!) man, and when my mum looked up to say sorry, she started talking to him as if they were old friends of some sort! Many interesting things happen in Diagon Alley, you know. And then there's this alley right next to it called Knockturn Alley. Sound harmless enough? Well, think again, my friend! It's been known to sell lots of stuff relating to the dark arts... and maybe some illegal stuff too! I wanted to check it out someday, but my mom wouldn't let me.  
Anyway, a week before school started, we went to Diagon Alley to buy my school things. There were lots of things on the list... books, potion ingredients, robes, cauldrons, and the like! There were so many shops that I haven't seen before... so many new things! I've always been the inquisitive one though, but now I'm left wondering why I never really noticed all this wonderful shops when I go on shopping trips with my mother to Diagon Alley?  
First, we stopped at Gringott's, the wizard's bank. My parents never really carry much money by their sides... they were always cautious of robbery, although in the wizarding world, there aren't many cases of such thefts, compared to the muggle world. Since I was young, I loved to go along to Gringotts... the carts amaze me. They're equivalent (or maybe BETTER!) to the muggle's "roller coaster", a car that has many seats that goes on tracks and goes in loops and loops. Well personally, I think the carts are faster. My dad hates them, and says that it makes him feel all queasy. I don't blame him. He doesn't have a really strong stomach, you know.  
So, Mum and I were bowed through the silver doors of Gringotts, while my dad said he'd rather stay at The Leaky Cauldron for a little while before meeting us outside Flourish and Blott's... who could blame him? There were many goblins working in Gringotts... yes, goblins. Ugly twisted creatures, they are. Never really liked them, you know. Don't know why... just don't curse me for it. Hey, it's personal opinion, you know! Mum and I made our way to a (surprisingly) free counter, and my mother smoothly said, 'Vault of Mr and Mrs Layton's please.' She then whipped out the key, and the goblin took it in one swift move. I could never do things smoothly at all. I'm a clumsy person by nature. It always amuses me to see people doing things with fluidity... The goblin examined it, and nodded his head curtly.  
'Margstyre? Take them to vault three thousand two hundred and seventy-nine please!'  
As I spun around, I saw a short(-er than average...) goblin beckoning us over.  
'This way,' Margstyre said as he ushered us in.  
The underground was blazing hot, and I started sweating not long after I stepped inside.  
'Don't these have cooling systems?' I asked Margstyre.  
'Not really... we don't have a need for them.'  
We got into one of the carts, and I waited with anticipation for the cart to start moving...  
WOOSH! The cart went off like a rocket. Down and down the many passages we went... breath held and face set to a grin, I was surging with adrenaline... it was always so fun to ride the cart at Gringotts! Did I sound too hyper about the cart ride? Well, I'm always hyper. So forgive me. Hee hee. After a few minutes, the cart stopped in front of a familiar vault door with "Layton's : Vault #3279" written in gold lettering on the top. We got down the cart, and Margstyre walked toward the vault, took out our key from his pocket, and carefully unlocked the door. We weren't exactly _rich_, nor poor, so you could consider us middle class - we had a fair pile of golden pieces ourselves. Mum took out her leather pouch, filled it with some coins, and walked out. Margstyre bowed to both of us, locked the door, and we hopped on the cart again. Mum looked _slightly_ green... now I'm left wondering why adults are so weak stomached...  
When we emerged in the bright sunlight again, we saw Dad waiting outside Gringotts impatiently. He was looking elsewhere, and had his arm crossed, looking at his watch occasionally. 'Dad!' I cried as Mum and I came out of the bank. Dad twirled around and his face erupted into a big grin when he spotted us.  
'Are you okay, dear?'  
'I'm fine, Horace,' declared my mother, trying her best to smile. Dad, being reassured, started toward Flourish and Blotts.

*

Flourish and Blotts was a musty old place full of stationery and big, thick volumes of books. Flourish and Blotts held a wide collection of magical books, and had some extremely rare collector's edition ones too. It was one of the most famous magical bookstores in all of London. As it was a week before school started, the place were full of people buying schoolbooks, so we hurriedly paid for my books and hurried out of the store.  
After that, we hurried over Madam Malkin's for my school uniform.  
'Hogwarts, Reyn's or Porta's?' a squat little lady who was apparently Madam Malkin, asked.  
'Hogwarts,' I replied firmly. No Reyn's or Porta's for me! I was too good for that! Or maybe I'm just being too high-strung... in fact, Reyn's wasn't bad at all. They excelled in charms and especially transfiguration. Madam Malkin then took out some measuring tape, took some measurements, then scribbled them down into a thick book. She then went to the back room to search for something, while I was standing there like a statue, measuring tape hovering in front of me - I felt like a fool! Luckily, Madam Malking came out soon after, with a black robe fitting me perfectly. Dad paid and we left.  
Next was Ollivander's, and my parents rushed me in... they knew selecting wands took a long time! I was thrilled... finally! To have a wand of my own! No more toy wand which did a standard of three things... how stupid. I was lucky though. The shop was empty and deserted. When we went in, no one was in sight, so I plopped down on a dusty chair, waiting for Mr Ollivander to come out. After a few moments when I was just getting bored, he burst out of the back room.  
'Ah!' he said with a flourish. 'Stand up, my girl! It's silly sitting down!'  
I stood up.  
Mr Ollivander's eyes travelled toward my parents, and he smiled.  
'Horace Layton... ten inches long... made of oak bark! Excellent for transfiguration, no?' Dad smiled.  
'And my dear lady Denise... Layton, I suppose. Mahogany wand... thirteen inches... am I right?' Mum nodded.  
'Now it's your turn! Which one is your wand hand?' I stuck out my right. He measured it, then took out a box, made me swish the wand around, shook his head, and took another one. 'It's the wand who chooses the master, not the master who chooses the wand!' I raised my eyebrows. After a whole five minutes (which isn't that long, really... but standing there and swishing wands around isn't going to make you very relaxed) and about ten boxes on the floor, I waves a wand and a shower of sparkly stuff drifted down.  
'Thirteen inches! Unicorn tail and phoenix feathers... willowy. Good for transfiguration work,' he nodded, and handed the wand to me. Dad got up from his seat and paid the money.  
'Wands getting more expensive these days, huh?'  
'Yup. Demand goes up, supply goes down,' said Mr Ollivander, shrugging.  
We went to get my cauldron and scales and such, which was pretty uneventful. Went in, bought, went out. It was late afternoon, and about time to go home, when we passed by Eeylops Owl Emporium.  
'Hey,' dad said brightly. 'Didn't you want an owl for your birthday?'  
I nodded.  
'Well, your mum and I were thinking about it, and decided that you could have one!' Well! Lucky me then.  
The owl emporium was... stuffy. And noisy, I should add. In the end after half an hour of deciding and looking, I decided on a barn owl, and I named her Felt. Not exactly original... but what do you expect an eleven-year-old to do?

*

A week passed by like a flash, as most of it was spent reading my school books. They were extremely interesting... you could call me a bookworm if you wanted to, but I am not exactly academically inclined. Anyway, the day came for me to leave for Hogwarts. i was apprehensive at first, but relaxed a little when Mum and Dad told me a little about the school. I was still feeling quite nervous at the end of it though. I mean, this is my first time away from my parents! I would be on my own... what if nobody liked me there? Will I have a best friend? Will the teachers be nice? All these questions swarmed in my head as we got off the car at King's Cross station. Mum took my trunk and things from the car boot while I took Felt's cage along. Dad waved goodbye to us as he sped off in a cloud of dust. I clutched the owl's cage tightly, and looked up at my mum, who smiled reassuringly at me. I smiled weakly back.  
'Now since you've got an owl,' mum said, glancing at Felt, 'you had better write to us some time! Okay?'  
I nodded, and smiled. I bit my lip as we walked nearer and nearer to the barrier, and then...

*

'Hogwart's Express,' it read, in gold letters by the side of the scarlet engine. I breathed. This was it. I know it wasn't exactly a big deal, going to school... to Hogwart's, and I'm exaggerating at this shit, but people who know me knows that I like to exaggerate stuff. Mum handed me my heavy trunk, and I waved goodbye to her as I dragged my trunk all the way into the train, and stuffed it in the corner of the compartment. I then plopped down on the very much worn leather seat, and plonked my head on the window. It jittered in response.  
When I checked my watch, it was only ten thirty, and the train still had half an hour to go before it left. I turned to face the compartment's door, and waited to see if anyone came in. I really wanted a new friend of some sorts... anyone, really. Just someone in first year, who is ready to talk. When I was just about to nod off to sleep, a girl came in through the door. My head snapped up (did I look weird?), and I blinked.  
'Hi?' the girl asked apprehensively.  
'Hi. I'm a first year, so you probably don't know me anyway.'  
'I see. I'm a first year too. My name's Arsia. What's yours?'  
'Nice name you got there... I'm Maggie. Short for Margaret... horrid name, I say!'  
'Margaret? No offense... my grandma's named Margaret. Everyone calls her old Mag... really!'  
At that, I cracked up... old Mag... that was extremely funny! (**A/N: I have no sense of humor... so sue me!**) We chatted for about fifteen minutes, and it was eleven o' clock. It was odd that no one came up to _our_ compartment... I mean, ours was in the middle of the train! Right where the platform was. Maybe people thought it was to crowded. I waved that thought aside as I chatted to my new found friend happily. I could foresee an enjoyable friendship in front of us.

Well, that's all there is so far, folks! If you want, put me on AuthorAlert /hint! hint!/, and you'll get notified when I post the next part... heh heh.


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